


Bridges Left to Burn

by 8ethespider8itch



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, nobody but Sal's mom dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ethespider8itch/pseuds/8ethespider8itch
Summary: Sal Fisher, a late-starting college freshman with a coffee problem and a notable lack of friends, moves into Addison apartments to attend Nockfell University and takes on all-nighters, noisy neighbors, and...the supernatural? Join Sal and the first friends he's ever actually had on the adventure of a lifetime, or possibly just to order pizza and hate-watch Lifetime original movies. But there's something dangerous lurking in the background of Nockfell, and Sal is at a greater risk than anyone realizes.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to this fandom, and I blasted through the game like a rocket with no regard for my brain or retention, so if I miss something or mess it up, please let me know. Thanks for reading!

Sal’s first impression of the apartment buildings was a number, not a word. “1970,” to be precise. The dark pressboard paneling, the avocado green shag carpets worn nearly bare down the center, the general smell of mothballs and patchouli that reminded Sal of his father’s VERY seventies powder blue suit that came out for weddings and funerals....ugh. It was a blast from a past that Sal was grateful not to have experienced the first time around, and he was glad for the thousandth time that day that his prosthetic hid his facial expression. Unfortunately for him, however, Henry Fisher could read Sal like an open book. He rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that bad Sal,” he said, propelling his son forward encouragingly, past the empty lobby desk and mailboxes overflowing with junk mail. “If you wanted to live somewhere fancy you should have started applying for colleges before acceptance letters were already mailed out.” The unspoken "or two years ago" hung between them uncomfortably like yet another ghost.

Sal took a deep breath and managed to avoid sighing. His dad was right, he probably should have applied for schools, for apartments, apartments, for jobs, but if he was being honest the idea of thinking about his nebulous Future™ caused him way too much anxiety to face it head on. He'd picked up a job at a local diner after graduation and put off applications again...and again. He knew it was getting ridiculous, and his therapist had pointed out the strain it was putting on his relationship with Henry, who had the utmost faith in Sal and his ability to build a future for himself. So an Easter weekend spent scrambling to apply to local colleges and the last week of summer looking for ANY single dorm or apartment near campus had led him here: Addison Apartments at Nockfell University. “Do you remember what room I’m supposed to be in, Dad?” Sal asked innocently. He knew the answer, but it seemed like a good idea to change the subject before his dad started talking about responsibility, and when he was Sal’s age, and mom-

“The key tag says 402,” Henry said, handing Sal the key. “Let’s get this stuff up to your room so I can hit the road before the rain starts.” The two of them looked out through the lobby doors at the heavy clouds lingering threateningly in the distance. As Sal lugged his trunk with Gizmo’s cat carrier strapped to the top and his father dragged two suitcases, they trudged together to the elevator where a pretty, middle aged woman in navy blue coveralls was mopping a spot on the floor aggressively.

“Sal Fisher?” she asked, smiling. Her eyes were kind, Sal thought, but tired. She stuck out a hand and Sal shook.

“That’s me,” he said awkwardly.

“It’s nice to meet you Sal, I’m Lisa,” she said warmly, and Sal believed that she really meant that. “I do the maintenance and management around here for Mr Addison, so if you need anything you can find my apartment downstairs.” She looked momentarily uncomfortable. “I should warn you. There’s been an um. An incident, you could say, in your neighbor’s apartment. Please don’t let it concern you, it will be taken care of soon.”

Henry looked at her quizzically. “An incident?” he repeated, and Lisa nodded, not offering any clarification. Henry looked to Sal, who shrugged and pushed the elevator button. Whatever “incident” had happened next door, it couldn’t be as bad as the things Sal had witnessed as a child. And generally speaking, the less he knew about unpleasant things, the better he’d sleep at night. The elevator doors opened and Sal and his father stepped inside. Just before the doors closed, Lisa caught them.

“It’s not good weather to be out about,” she said. “Why don’t you come on downstairs and join my family for dinner? I have a son about your age I think you’d get along great. We’re having pizza!” Sal hesitated. He hated eating in front of people. Taking off his mask in front of strangers wasn’t optimal, and being a picky eater didn’t help. Lisa didn’t wait for an answer. She simply said, “See you at 6!” and let the door close behind them.

“What an odd woman,” Henry mused, almost to himself. Sal agreed, but as the ancient elevator rattled upward he found himself looking forward to company...and pizza. 

_________________________________________________________

The apartment consisted of a living room with a cracked leather couch, an island with barstools separating it from a small kitchen, a bathroom with an ancient tub and cracked mirror, and a concerningly empty bedroom. “I thought this place was furnished,” Sal’s father said, sounding concerned. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home tonight and move in the weekend before your classes start?”

Sal was not sure, not at all. But he was also entirely too stubborn to do anything else. “Don’t worry Dad,” he said easily, “I’ll ask Lisa about it when I go downstairs for dinner. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. You should head out, I wouldn’t want you to be on the road too late.”

The men hugged, a bit awkwardly. “I’m proud of you Sal,” Henry told him, and Sal tried not to look too uncomfortable.

“Thanks Dad. I love you. I’ll see you soon.” He saw his father to the apartment door, and it was then he noticed that the door to his left was ribboned off with what appeared to be an entire roll of police tape...and a dark, sticky substance was leaking from under the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Sal knew there was no use worrying about what happened in the neighboring apartment, so he did his best to distract himself with unpacking odds and ends from his trunk. Gizmo made himself at home immediately, lounging on the ancient couch and yawning as if he was the one who’d toted Sal’s enormous trunk from the parking lot to the living room. After setting up his console and dismaying at the lack of TV, Sal popped the lid of his trunk and fished out a cracked plastic comforter bag full of pots, pans, and general dishware. Determined to accomplish something today, Sal began sorting out kitchen items and deciding where he’d like to store them. Pots and pans went under the counter in the lower cabinets. Plates and bowls went above the decrepit microwave.. Filling the upper cabinet with cups and mugs neatly as he knew how, his mind inevitably wandered to the room next door. What the hell happened over there? Was that really blood on the floor? He couldn’t get it out of his head. Before he could make up his mind to do the unthinkably stupid and check it out, there was a knock at his door. Startled, just Sal managed to keep from dropping a stack of already-chipped coffee cups on his head and scrambled to answer the door.

Outside there was a tall, lanky guy about his age with incredibly long brown hair. He had warm, bright eyes and an inviting smile, and Sal noticed there was some sort of logo on his tee shirt that he didn't recognize. Sal also noticed that he was quite literally tall, dark, and handsome. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking determinedly away from the room next door. “Hey,” he said.

“Um, hey,” Sal answered, hands still full of an excessive number of mugs, one of which was hanging at a concerning angle. He wedged his chin onto the stack to steady it. “I’m Sal. My friends call me Sally Face.”

“I’m Larry,” the tall guy said, surprising Sal by looking him directly in the eyes. He thrust out a hand to shake, then saw the mugs and clearly thought better of it. He shoved his hand back in his pocket, cheeks a dusky red. “I think you met my mom earlier. Lisa? She said to come up and see how you’re settling in.”

“Oh!” Sal said, and it dawned on him. “You look like your mom, I should have realized.”

Larry cringed. “I get that a lot. You need any help in there?” he peered around Sal and his eyes widened. “Where the hell is your furniture, man?” he asked. 

“I was actually wondering the same thing,” Sal told him, opening the door wider so Larry could come in. “I thought these apartments were furnished.”

Larry smacked his forehead. “Shit,” he said. “I think this is my bad. My mom told me this room was going to need some stuff from the storage unit, but with what happened over at the Sandersons’ place I kinda forgot. I’ll take care of it now if you want, just don’t mention it to my mom, alright?” 

“What do you mean,’what happened at the Sandersons’ place’?” Sal asked. “Is that my neighbor?”

Larry looked around as if someone might be listening. “Was your neighbor dude, not is. Mrs. Sanderson is like, very dead… and I don’t think Mr. Sanderson’s coming back.”

Sal’s eyes widened. “Did he kill her?” he asked, embarrassed to find that he was whispering.

Larry shook his head and leaned in. Sal felt oddly relieved when he whispered back. “Don’t think so. I was over here cleaning when it happened. Someone came in and it sounded-” he cut off abruptly. 

“It sounded?” Sal asked impatiently.

“Shh, man!” Larry looked seriously tweaked out, and his eyes continually scanned the room as if someone else might be hiding in a corner in wait.

“How high are you right now?” Sal asked, trying not to smirk.

“Now?” Larry asked. “Not at all. I wish I was dude, I’m so spooked. But if I’m late for dinner my mom’s gonna kick my ass. Stick around after and we can talk about what happened over there,” Larry jerked his head toward the now-empty apartment. 

“Any chance we can talk about getting me a bed while we’re at it?” Sal asked, finally setting his plethora of mugs on the bartop.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Larry said. “Don’t let me forget about that.”

____________________________________________________________________

As all elevator rides are, the trip down to Lisa and Larry’s apartment was agonizingly awkward. The elevator trundled along slowly, stopping at every floor for some reason and taking its sweet time to continue. As the door pinged on the second floor Larry turned to Sal.

“So…” he said, clearly trying to break the uncomfortable silence. “I like the mask dude.”

Sal felt his face flush a little. “Um. Thanks?” The doors closed and the elevator mercifully continued its journey, the silence in the tiny space deafening yet again. “It’s a prosthetic,” he said awkwardly, almost apologetic.

“Oh! Oh...sorry man,” Larry replied, red faced. 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Sal said. “I’m used to way worse responses by now.”

Larry chuckled. “Yeah, you said. Your friends call you Sally Face, huh? Some friends.”

“I guess I don’t have very good friends,” Sal said thoughtfully. “I figured if I just kind of owned the nickname the bullies couldn’t really use it against me.”

The elevator pinged and the doors opened into the basement. “Sally Face it is then!” Larry said, clapping Sal on the back and heading into his apartment.

______________________________________________________________________

Sal wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but enormous homemade pizzas were not it. It felt like a long time since he’d sat down at a kitchen table for a family style meal. The table was set and Sal was confused to see forks and knives out in addition to the pizza. It wasn’t until Lisa came from the kitchen with a big bowl of salad and some garlic bread that he realized that this was not the kind of pizza night he was accustomed to at all. There would be no call to Domino’s, no TV trays, and no boring political thriller droning on the television. Larry cut the pizza with an _actual pizza cutter_ and Lisa tossed the salad, and Sal felt an ache in his chest that surprised him. It had been a long time since he’d thought about family dinners. 

“Hey dude, plain or pepperoni?” Sal was shaken from his thoughts as Larry offered him a slice of each.

“Just plain, thanks,” he said, holding his plate out for the pizza.

“He’s so skinny Larry, give him two,” Lisa encouraged. When the food was served, she bowed her head to say grace silently before digging into her own slice of pepperoni pizza. Sal thought of his mother again, for the second time today missing her terribly. “What brings you to Addison Apartments Sal?” Lisa asked.

“I’m starting classes at Nockfell in a couple weeks. This was the only apartment building within my budget that offered single resident housing and furnished spaces.” He cut the pizza into small bites, using his salad fork to slip it under his mask to his mouth.

“Oh! That’s right, you’re in a furnished room,” Lisa said, adding some salad to Sal’s plate and nudging the untouched platter of garlic bread towards him. “How do you like the bedding? The mattress is brand new, but I know the frame is a little squeaky.”

Sal looked to Larry briefly, who shot him a thumbs up and a nod. “It’s, uh. Great! Thank you. I need to get a TV soon, but I think other than that I should be set.” Larry breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed visibly in his seat. Lisa looked thoughtful.

“Larry, isn’t there an extra TV in Mr. Addison’s storage room?” she asked

“Sure,” Larry said, helping himself to another piece of pizza. “But I’m pretty sure it’s black and white. Addison’s old as shit.”

“Larry!” Lisa admonished. “I think it’s a color set,” she told Sal, but she didn’t look entirely sure. “Larry can bring it up to your room later. In the meantime, you’re welcome to use ours whenever you like. Larry’s taking classes at Nockfell University as well, so I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of one another.” She beamed at him. Larry looked embarrassed. 

“It’s not a big deal, Mom,” he said, clearly embarrassed.

“Being the first in the family to go to college is not ‘whatever,’ Lawrence,” Lisa chided, and Sal stifled a snort at the mortification in Larry’s voice as he hissed “Mom!” It was sweet how proud Lisa was of her son. It made him think of his dad’s face when he first got his acceptance letter, which was about the happiest he’d been in his short adult life. 

“I think that’s cool. What are you majoring in?” Sal asked, glad the conversation wasn’t about him. 

Larry and his mother both had odd looks on their faces. “I’m taking art courses,” Larry said noncommittally. “You want some more garlic bread?”

___________________________________________________________________

Dinner was lovely, and Sal felt by the end like his stomach might burst. He made sure to complement Lisa’s cooking and thank her repeatedly. She smiled so fondly at him it made his heart feel funny and said, “Any time sweetheart,” when he thanked her for the third time for having him. When they finished eating he offered to help clean up, but Lisa refused, waving them off to, “go play some games or something, have fun!” and they headed down the narrow hallway of the apartment to Larry’s bedroom. 

The door was unmistakably Larry’s, covered in posters and signs labeled “caution” and “do not enter.” Larry pushed open the door and Sal was astonished to see an enormous, artistically decorated space covered in posters, art, and a variety of album covers.

“You listen to metal?” Larry asked, turning on his stereo.

“Not sure,” Sal said. 

“Well you do now,” Larry said with a grin. “I don’t want my mom to hear what we’re talking about.” Sal found himself nodding his head in time to the music. It was definitely catchy. “Look at you,” Larry appraised, approvingly. “We’ll have you headbanging in no time. Anyway.” He did that thing again where he looked around for some hidden listener before leaning toward Sal. “Sanderson, right?”

Sal felt a chill go down his spine. “Yeah, what about her?”

“She was a weird lady, right? Nice, but weird. And she and her husband mostly kept to themselves. But I was in your room vacuuming when it happened, so I heard some of it. She was arguing with someone, and it wasn’t Herman. The voice was...weird.” Larry dropped off as if he were deciding not to continue, not like he had nothing else to say. Sal was at a loss. This really wasn’t a lot of information. It sounded kind of like your standard, run-of-the-mill crime of passion, a pretty ordinary type of murder. But Larry looked shockingly skeeved out, so Sal didn’t point that out.

“That’s...pretty freaky,” Sal said, meaning it. He didn’t like that this had happened next door to his new apartment, where he lived alone. And he definitely didn’t like that it was unsolved. “Remind me to lock my room tonight, alright?” 

Larry grinned and handed him a walkie talkie. “Take one of these and I’ll be able to remind you.”

Sal took it, visibly confused. “Can’t you just text me?” he asked. 

“I could, but where’s the fun in that?” Larry asked. “Besides, my mom forgot to pay the phone bill this month, so I can’t really text right now. If you need to get in touch with us and the walkie isn’t getting through for some reason, the home phone is on your fridge labeled ‘maintenance.”

Sal shrugged and pocketed the walkie talkie. “Cool. Can we go get that furniture for my room now?”

“Shit, I almost forgot again,” Larry groaned. “Sure thing dude, let’s go.”

“Oh, and can you send me a link to this album later when your phone’s back on?”

Larry grinned a broad, genuine smile and Sal saw that there was something...odd about it. “I knew you’d like it. I think we’re going to be good friends.”

_____________________________________________________________________


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t long after midnight that there was a knock on the apartment door. “It’s for me, Ma!” Larry called down the hall to his mother, whose baking was in full swing. She was making healthy banana nut muffins for Sal.

“Poor thing,” she’d said affectionately to Larry when he returned from helping Sal move his furniture in. “He’s so skinny, and he looks exhausted.”

“You haven’t even seen his face, Ma. How would you know he looks exhausted?” Larry had said, exasperated, and Lisa had just rolled her eyes and begun taking eggs from the refrigerator.

Now, he opened the door to find Ash standing outside. She looked cold and annoyed. “Now you answer. I’ve been calling your cell for hours.”

Larry snorted. “Hear that Ma? Ash has been calling my cell for hours. I wonder why she couldn’t get through?”

“I’m sorry Ashley!” Lisa shouted from the kitchen. “I forgot to pay the bill. You know how these things are…” 

“No worries Lisa,” Ashley said, still lingering in the threshold. “Can I come in?” she asked Larry, and he snorted and nodded.

“Yeah, come in and have something to eat. Just stay away from the muffins, they’re for the new kid in 402 and if you take any I think Ma will take you fucking hand off.”

“New kid, huh?” Ash asked teasingly. “That’s why you blew me off tonight, it had nothing to do with your mother or your cell phone. Wait.” Her tone went suddenly serious. “402? Isn’t that the room-”

“The room next to Sanderson’s place? Yeah.” Larry heaved a dark sigh. “I don’t like this, Ash. Something’s going down and I can’t put my finger on what.”

“You’re telling me. You’re okay with leaving this new kid alone up there?” Ash was skeptical, and Larry knew that was fair. He wasn’t okay with Sal being up there alone with God knows who or what, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Ash, not right now.

“He’s fine, I’m not worried about it,” Larry lied. 

Ash rolled her eyes at him, but mercifully didn’t say anything more about it. “You still good to come out tonight?” she asked, looking him up and down. He was wearing plaid lounge pants and a holey tee shirt. Not exactly “going out” material.

He followed her gaze. “Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute to get dressed. You can go hang with mom if you want.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen as he headed back down the hall. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

Safely back in his room, Larry dug a pair of shredded black jeans from his clean laundry basket and threw on a better fitting tee shirt. Checking his reflection, he grinned. For someone who didn’t make much of an effort, Larry didn’t clean up too badly. He picked up a small pendant on a chain from his dresser, a tiny crystal bottle filled with what looked like garnets, and fastened it around his neck, tucking it into the neck of his tee shirt, then grabbed his keys, wallet, and useless cell phone off the bedside table. On his way out the bedroom door, he hesitated. 

Sitting on the bed was his walkie talkie, the red light blinking at him innocently. Sal should be fine...right? He hesitated only a moment before grabbing it and shoving it awkwardly in his back pocket and leaving the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. “Bye, Ma!” he shouted down the hall from the door. “Ash, let’s go!”

Ash followed after him, surprised by his hurry, and Lisa shouted a loving farewell as they left through the cellar exit. Larry checked his phone for the time and found himself very grateful they lived in the basement. Night owls like the Johnsons could be loud, and not having any connected neighbors was a blessing for them as well as those potential tenants.

It wasn’t long before Ash spotted the walkie talkie. “Really Lar?” she asked, pointing to his pocket. “Are you twelve? Is this for your ‘no girls allowed’ treehouse club?”

Larry groaned. “That was one time, Ashley, and I said I was sorry.”

Ash grinned. “And I beat you up for it.”

“And you beat me up for it,” Larry agreed, making his way easily down the sidewalk under the buzzing yellow streetlights.

Ash didn’t let up. “But seriously, what’s with the low tech?”

Larry didn’t look at her, he kept staring toward the twinkling lights of town down the large hill ahead of them. “Sal has the other one,” he said.

“Sal?” Ash asked. “402 Sal who  _ just moved in _ ? What are you even doing Larry?”

Larry shrugged, noncommittal. “I can have friends besides you guys, can’t I?” he asked, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. 

“I mean, sure, you can have friends, but do you really think this-”

“Can you drop it, Ash?” Larry cut her off, his tone more aggressive than he’d expected. But she dropped it, and they walked down the hill in relative silence.

“What’s the plan?” Ash asked, changing the subject before Larry could sort out his thoughts and apologize. She knew he was sorry, and he knew she knew it too. That was the kind of friendship they had.

“We’ll hit up Hardigan’s tonight. They have a good beer special, and people should be pretty sloshed by now. The truck is parked a few blocks down in the municipal lot, I’ll meet you there around two.”

“Two?” Ash arched an eyebrow. “You really think I’m that good?”

Larry smirked. “Listen, if you’re not, you know I am.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The two parted ways before entering the bar. Larry immediately made his way up to a high top in the corner to people watch. The bar was hazy with a bluish glow from the neon beer signs mixed with the heavy cigarette smoke wafting from the back room. The dance floor was absolutely packed with sweaty people swaying and mingling. At the bar, Ash was leaning in a sloppy approximation of a flirtatious angle, alreading chatting with a frat bro three beers deep. Gross. The town was small, but this bar was popular among the college students who were underage and had shitty fake IDs. There was no bouncer at the door, and they didn’t serve mixed drinks, so adventurous underclassmen mingled with frat boys, townies, and the occasional weirdo to feel bold and brave. The week or two before classes started were prime freshman season, and Larry was always keeping an eye out for them in the crowd.  _ Ahhh _ , he thought,  _ bingo _ . A few feet away, he saw a small, awkward-looking freckled girl holding a PBR close to her chest and looking desperately for an exit. A tall, broad-shouldered guy in a flannel and denim cutoffs was standing over her, entirely too close. Larry watched as the guy crowded the girl, but he didn’t step in yet. He had to wait for the right moment. Ash was watching from across the bar, and he saw her flash him a thumbs up before heading for the door.  _ This was surprisingly quick _ , he thought. They were really getting good at this. 

The lumberjack very obviously slipped something into the freshman’s drink, and Larry knew this was his moment. He stood up and stalked silently up behind the pair, slipping seamlessly between them. “Hey there friend,” he said to the girl. “How have you been?” 

The girl looked terrified and confused, and she didn’t answer him. 

“She’s been talking to me, that’s how she’s been,” the unfriendly lumberjack told him. He looked pissed.

“Well our friends are waiting for her over there.” Larry motioned to a group of senior girls he recognized. They were smoking cigarettes at a high top and laughing riotously. “They know it’s not a party until you’re here.” He addressed the girl again, keeping his tone gentle. “Why don’t you head over? I’ll have a chat with your friend here and meet up with you later.”

She nodded silently, avoiding eye contact with him, and practically ran over to the group of girls. He could see her tearfully explaining her situation, and the group of older women did what older women do and took her into the fold, shooting nasty glares in the lumberjack’s direction. Larry smirked. The lumberjack didn’t.

“You want to take this outside, asshole?” the lumberjack asked menacingly.

Larry grinned at him. “It would be my pleasure.”

It only took a clap to the temples to knock the moron out as soon as they stepped into the alley. Mr. Lumberjack didn’t stand a chance. Larry slung one beefy arm over his shoulder and led his new buddy down the alley toward the municipal lot. This jackass was hefty. Lugging his newfound baggage along, Larry deeply regretted asking Ash to meet him at the truck. She could be a big help right now. He was almost to the lot when a crunching of gravel and a whooping siren alerted him to an unpleasant presence behind him: a patrol car. 

“Fuck,” Larry murmured, hefting the idiot beside him as upright as he could. The car pulled up beside him and rolled down a window. 

“Evening gentlemen,” the officer said pleasantly.

“Evening,” Larry replied, giving Mr Lumberjack a subtle jerk that could just pass for a nod.

“Everything alright?” the officer asked, tone still pleasant. There was mild suspicion on his face, but nothing too dangerous. Larry was half tempted to pass this loser off to the cop, but he knew his job for the night wasn’t quite finished, and he also knew Ash would kill him. He managed an airy laugh.

“Everything’s fine, officer. My friend here was going too hard on the dance floor, and he turned his ankle.” He dropped to a stage whisper. “I think he had a little too much to drink.”

The officer gave a slow nod. “I see, I see. You boys need a ride home?”

“Nope,” Larry said cheerily, “I’m the DD tonight. My car’s just down the way, I’ll drop him off at home. Wouldn’t want to frighten his mother showing up in a squad car, you understand. Thanks though!”

The officer examined the two thoughtfully for a moment, but seemed to ultimately decide that they weren’t worth the effort. “You go on home then, have a safe night,” he said, his tone warning as well as polite.

“Oh will do sir, you too,” Larry said earnestly.  _ I deserve a fucking Oscar for this, _ he thought. The window rolled up and the car drove on, crunching down the gravel of the alley. 

Larry half-dragged his quarry the rest of the way to the truck, keeping his eyes wide for cops and other possible problems. When he finally got to the municipal lot, Ash was leaning on the side door of the truck with a sour look on her face.

“You couldn’t have given me the keys?” she asked. “It’s fucking cold.”

“Trust me, I didn’t have any more fun getting this meathead here than you had waiting for me. Can you help me get his dumb ass into the bed?” Together, the two of them hoisted Mr. Lumberjack into the back. 

“You bring the scalpel?” he asked Ash. She nodded. “You get him started, I’ll go get the other shit from the cab.”

Ash drew the scalpel in a thin line along the lumberjack’s skin, and Larry cringed as he hopped over the side of the truck bed. He hated this part. Shuffling through the canvas bag on the passenger side floor, he brought out two plastic pints left over from his last order of wonton soup. 

“This guy could afford to lose more than two pints,” Ashley said critically as she eyed the containers Larry brought her. 

Larry flashed her a sharp grin. “Don’t worry, he will.” 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When they finished with the idiot, Ash decided to dump him in the backyard of a local frat house that had held a welcome back gathering. Drunk, anemic, and definitely concussed, there was no danger of him remembering either of them, and if he didn’t get some fluids in him in the morning he was in for a bad time.

“Those boys are morons,” she said, her tone affectionate, “but they know how to make a bangin’ breakfast.”

Larry had just shoved his new friend over the top of the picket fence when he heard a familiar beep followed by a crackling. His walkie talkie was going off. Hastily, he wiped his wet hands on his pants and pressed the button. “Sal? What’s up buddy?” he asked, trying to keep his tone even and not the breathless voice of someone who had hefted a two hundred fifty pound man over a fence moments before.

There was a long, long silence. Finally, Sal whispered something. If Larry’s hearing wasn’t excellent he would have missed it. “There’s someone in my room.”

Larry was already running for the truck, and Ash took off after him.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who (or what) do you think is lurking in Sal's bedroom? Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
